Scoundrel (Lost Lords of Radcliffe Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

us? Could you escort us?”
    “Since we’re strangers who’ve only just met, I consider that to be an extremely brazen request.”
    “I realize it is, and normally I wouldn’t be so crass, but I’m exhausted and starving and thirsty and afraid. I can’t force myself to be meek and polite.”
    “I’ve noticed that about you.” A fascinating smile curved his lips. “I have no funds to purchase fares for you, and even if I had I would never escort you anywhere. I wouldn’t get back out on the ocean for all the tea in London.”
    “Are you from London?”
    “Yes.”
    “What are you doing here?”
    “Hiding and playing, Sister Faithful, and I don’t intend to ever stop. So I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time by coming to me.” He pointed to the door. “If you’ll excuse me? I’m busy today.”
    “Busy?” she sputtered. “As far as I can see you’re drinking and loafing.”
    “Yes, I am. It’s what I do every day, but I can’t do it while you’re standing there, and I most especially can’t do it while there is a gaggle of young girls in the house, so…if you’ll excuse me?”
    She gaped at him, wondering if she’d ever previously encountered such an indolent, unlikeable rogue.
    Though it was idiotically foolish, she’d pinned such hopes on him. She’d imbued him with traits it was ludicrous to have envisioned. She’d pictured him as courteous and charming, useful and pragmatic. She’d assumed he’d be sympathetic and obliging.
    He was handsome enough, but the pretty exterior shielded a heart of stone.
    “May we…we…stay the night? It’s such a lengthy distance to town. I don’t know if we could make it before the sun sets.”
    “I’m really not prepared to entertain guests, Sister Faithful.”
    “Please?”
    To her horror, tears swarmed into her eyes, and the oaf detected them.
    “Are you crying?” At the prospect, he was aghast. “Don’t you dare cry.”
    “I can’t help it,” she mumbled.
    She was fatigued and furious. Who would treat a stray dog as he was treating her? Who would cast women and children out into the desert?
    If she wasn’t so weary, she’d have stepped up to his fancy throne and shook him until his teeth rattled. But she didn’t suppose rage would move him.
    Before she could prevent herself, before she could think better of it, she dropped to her knees and flashed her most woeful expression.
    “I’m begging you, sir. For one night. The girls are only five, six, and seven. And all of us are so tired. Surely you aren’t so cruel as to evict us when we’re in such a reduced condition.”
    He scowled. “Get up, Sister. There’s no need for groveling.”
    “Please?” she said again, and it dawned on her that she probably couldn’t get up. She was that beaten down.
    He studied her where she was prostrate and shamefully pleading. His scowl deepened, and he dithered, sipped his wine, dithered some more.
    Finally he grumbled, “Just one night. Just one! Not a second more.”
    “Thank you,” she murmured but she didn’t rise. She couldn’t.
    “I don’t care how fervently you beseech me tomorrow. I don’t care how poignantly you stare at me with those pretty blue eyes of yours. You’re leaving in the morning.”
    “Yes, we’ll go. I swear.”
    Strong arms grabbed and lifted her, and she was whisked out of the room. She peeked up to see that the tattooed giant was carrying her off, her toes brushing the tiled floor.
    She peered back at the arrogant despot. He was watching her, a bored look on his attractive face. If she’d had any effect on him at all, there was no sign.
    “What is your name, sir?” she called to him.
    “Didn’t I say?”
    “No.”
    “Chase Hubbard, formerly of Cairo, Egypt, and London, England.” He toasted her with his goblet. “At your service, Sister Faithful.”
    Then she was hurried around a corner, and he vanished from view.

CHAPTER TWO
    “There are women here?”
    “Yes, two of them.”
    “British women?